


Cosmic Irony

by Bearslayer



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, KE Week Day 1, Masturbation, Mention of Death, Orgasms, Soulmate AU, This is terrible lmao I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearslayer/pseuds/Bearslayer
Summary: In a world populated by soulmates, some people were born without. Eve had always assumed that was her fate - until...
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 29
Kudos: 205
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	Cosmic Irony

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in four hours based on a concept I had at 2:30 in the morning after a fitful sleep.
> 
> This is garbage but I had fun with it! :D

Some people never saw color until they met their soulmate.

Others heard their person’s voice inside their heads, narrating their internal monologues.

Some bore a name upon their wrist, or a birthmark.

Others still gained a mark across their skin wherever their mate’s skin was broken.

Some found their others in dreams, speaking to them with a lucidity seldom found in the unconscious realm.

Though a romantic would tell you that there was a mate for every soul and that there were just other connections that humankind had not yet learned, others would agree that this was often not the case. Some never found theirs. Some lost theirs to death. Some, it was posited, didn’t even _have_ one, whole by themselves or, some would say, were entirely devoid of one at all. There were cultures that believed that if there was no sign or signal that you were without your soulmate by a certain point, no divine marking or beckoning voice, that you might not even _have_ a soul to begin with. At a certain point, some argued that there were just far too many people on the planet for there to still be souls to go around. Surely souls were a finite resource? These soulless types often found themselves paired off with those who had given up their search for their true mate, or those who had lost them and still felt compelled to carry on. Even if there was no grand purpose in such matches, they were often just as fulfilling as soul matches. Sure, there were less movies made about them, less epic stories and fairytales, but what difference did that make? Love didn’t have to be all consuming.

And who was to say that you needed a soul to be happy, anyway?

Eve certainly didn’t.

In fact, Eve would argue that it was much less stressful to lack a soul. It made it far easier to function in the day to day when there wasn’t some mysterious _other_ to consider. And she had done just fine in her life without a soulmate. She had a career and a husband who, though he could never tell her what color looked best on her, was kind and supportive. Maybe a little boring, but in a comfortable sort of way. His predictability allowed her to be ambitious, and he was as devoted a man as one could be even knowing that his wife wasn’t his meant-to-be. She had a sneaking suspicion that even if Niko ended up finding the person he was supposed to be with that he would stay with her, despite the soulmate clause Eve had willingly agreed to (which stated that their non-soulmate union could be broken without penalization, if he suddenly found himself seeing the world in technicolor). Niko was comfortable with Eve, and Eve with him, even after the _occurrences_ began.

The first time it happened, Eve was 39 and in an important meeting with her boss’s boss at the time, Frank Haleton. They had been discussing the protection detail for a Russian delegate when Eve suddenly began to overheat.

“You’ll have to ensure that those assigned to his detail are fluent in both Russian and Ukrainian; they’ll see this as a formality and they’ll be checked for wires, but we need to… Eve?” Frank adjusted his glasses as Eve began to fidget in her seat.

“I - I’ll be right back.” Eve had mumbled, the heat in her chest traveling and growing rapidly, beelining towards her center.

Her fingers were wrapped around the door handle to the bathroom as she dropped to her knees, hit by a sudden and powerful orgasm. She had managed to keep quiet during it, biting the inside of her cheek so hard that she drew blood. Bill rushed to her side only for her to slap at him, croaking at him that she was _fine_ and she just needed to go to the bathroom because she felt nauseous and he just needed to not _touch_ her. She crawled into the bathroom after he backed off and was intensely grateful that the womens bathroom there had only a woefully inadequate two stalls, one of which had been broken for two months at that point - the few women in the office tended to go downstairs to accounting to use their loo. Nobody would bother her. She had pressed herself against the door and jammed the fabric of her turtleneck up between her teeth to muffle her noises as another, even more intense orgasm struck. Three times in all was she hit with the tsunami force of an unexpected, unprompted, and wholly un _wanted_ climax during what could be argued was the least sexy scenario that Eve could think of; sitting across from Frank goddamn Haleton.

The existential crisis that she had on that bathroom floor was one for the record books.

At first, she was terrified that she was somehow, someway secretly attracted to Frank. Frank, weaselly Frank with his unkempt beard and nervous movements, always looking like he’d done something wrong.

How could she live her life knowing her standards had dropped so low? What would Niko think of her? Or worse - what would _Bill_ think of her?

Then, realizing that there was no possible way that she could actually have any feeling other than thinly veiled contempt for the man, she was afraid for her health. There was no explanation she could come up with that would explain it other than that she had the sudden onset of some strange disease that made her ruin her panties at work. She had sat there on the floor for nearly a half hour before she submitted to the mortifying ordeal of addressing the unexplainable mess - she had just thrown the underwear away and spent a few minutes splashing herself with cold water before exiting the washroom. She had gone home early that day, the thousand yard stare on her face enough for Bill to insist she go before she even suggested it. She didn’t tell Niko about it, figuring there was no reason to get him - excited? Worried? At the time she was so confounded by what had happened that she couldn’t even imagine how he would react.

For two years after, Eve would be stricken by sudden, uncontrollable bouts of pleasure. Sometimes just the once, but sometimes intermittently for hours at a time. They seemed so random that her only saving grace was that they didn’t happen at work again; it was mostly at night when she could take out that energy on her husband, or while she slept, leading to some wild dreams. During those two years she had seen countless doctors and specialists, many who either found amusement in her plight or tried and failed to diagnose her. They ruled out persistent genital arousal disorder, which she hadn’t known was a real thing but was still terribly sad wasn’t to blame. They ruled out various mental disorders, because there was no trigger for the events that she could pinpoint. She was an anomaly, and she was always basically told she could either enjoy the ride or try some other horrifying therapy to stop it. She stopped going to doctors of any sort after one suggested electro-convulsive therapy.

It was not until a particularly sleepless night that Eve chose to do a google deep dive. She was so simultaneously exhausted and aroused that sleep was a pipe dream, and she needed answers. Over two years had been more than enough of her life being disrupted for this. The combination of search terms and exclusions she had to go through to sidestep both medical websites and blatant pornography ended up being truly masterful; she still remembered the search precisely. “Spontaneous orgasm no pattern forum -pgad -drugs -”cara anaya” -fungus” - given her normal inability to get good results when she used the internet, she was thrilled to see a real result pop up.

It was a website about medical oddities; a single topic titled “urgent please help I keep having random orgasms NOT A JOKE PLEASE READ PINNED POST!!”

It had been posted years before, but there were hundreds of replies that Eve poured over, hundreds of people suffering the same problem, until one person chimed in —

“ _Guys you aren’t gonna believe this but TFlare and I were doing some research and this is a thing like a real thing and it’s not medical or psychological… we’re positive this is a soulmate thing!! _

_Hear me out bc I know it sounds crazy but think about it_

_I always thought I was one of those ppl that didn’t have one, right? So I was complaining to T about how this whole cumming my pants at random thing is gonna make it hard to find someone since dating is hard enough without some GREAT BIG DESTINY behind it… and T said the same thing, and we started talking about it and lookin thru the thread and realized that a lot of us mentioned the same thing, that we don’t have soulmates/don’t have marks or visions or w/e… so we started thinking like - what if? What if this is our soulmate thing and nobody ever talks about it because it’s super embarrassing and taboo??? Like we always hear about pain being something that links people but with our society being so prudish and shit what if it was just like a rare but real thing?_

_Then we started researching and found a BUNCH of stuff about it and found all these mentions of it, and this old research paper, and all this stuff…”_

The thread continued that way for a long time, with the person (whose screenname was WhiskeyJames) who posted the answer linking a myriad of sources, all of which Eve read until the early hours of the morning. Later on in the thread there was one last post by him - a post that said that he and TFlare had done an ‘experiment’ to test something… T had masturbated to completion, and Whiskey had felt it. The post was edited to show a picture of the pair, looking wonderfully sharp in matching tuxedos, with the caption; **Soulmates, Apparently!** They had been married just six months prior to Eve discovering the thread, and her heart soared for them.

For 41 years she had wandered through life under the assumption that she was one of the soulless - one of the aimless wanderers waiting to fill a void in another while they waited for their real love to come around. For 41 years Eve had been content, but resigned. 41 years she had assumed that there was no soul in her, yearning for its other half, reaching ever into the dark to find the part of her that had been split away at the start of creation. She had assumed that she simply _was_ and that she was neither whole nor half of a whole. The revelation was world shattering, and she spent the next day in bed, so consumed by what ifs that she couldn’t even be bothered to shower. She couldn’t tell Niko, but at the same time had to tell _somebody -_ which made the whirlwind her life was thrown into the day after that much more difficult.

After drunk karaoke with Bill, Eve’s life was consumed. Consumed by _her._

MI6.

Berlin.

Bill.

Frank.

Russia.

_Villanelle._

In a short 22 days, Eve’s entire universe had been thrown into a blender by the woman - by that maddening woman, who fucked everything up, who killed Bill, who had crawled into her skin and made a home there inside of her. That coupled with the near constant frequency of Eve’s random orgasms had made it so that she felt like she hadn’t slept in weeks by the time she found herself sitting across from her in the destroyed Paris apartment. She had been waiting so long to just see her, to be across from her, and it felt like a dream. The knife concealed in her waistband pressed against her hip as she spoke, telling Villanelle just how engulfed she had been in her over that last month.

“I think about you, too. I mean, I masturbate about you a lot.” Villanelle admitted, giving a little grin that seemed almost innocent.

The admission must have broken something inside of Eve, something deep, because she just laughed for a moment. Villanelle’s brows furrowed at the laughter, but she soon joined in.

“Yeah? Maybe that’s why I’ve been going through a pair of panties every night. You’re keeping me up… It’s really very rude.” She suggested. Villanelle was rightly confused, but also intrigued.

“.. You do too?” She raised a brow, grinning that smug little grin.

“No, I don’t need to, really. And it’s definitely not a man causing this. That kind of refractory period on a man? He’d be a porn star. God among men.” Eve scoffed, unwilling to elaborate. Instead, she leaned forward, looking into the younger woman’s eyes. “How often? I… I want to know.”

“How often do I masturbate? Wow.” Villanelle shifted in her seat, licking her lips.

Eve could feel her examining her body. She could feel those wide, beautiful eyes conjuring up the memory of what Eve looked like naked and vulnerable, like a predator. A perfect predator. Even with her face all bruised, her lips split, smelling less than lovely from days of running and fighting, she was _perfect._ Eve hated her and wanted her in equal measure - and now, she was the one with the power. The gun at her side and the knife at her hip gave her the confidence she needed to make the request. She needed to know. She wouldn’t force it; she knew that Villanelle would go along with it eagerly. Somewhere deep in her gut she knew the answer to the question she couldn't ask, but there was only one way to know for sure.

“Show me?” Eve’s mind was buzzing, heart beginning to pound.

“You - you want me to…” Villanelle’s eyes widened to capacity, dumbfounded at the request.

“I want to see what you look like when you do it.” Eve mumbled, leaning forward a little.

“… Jesus christ. Should I… get on the bed?” Villanelle mumbled, a pink hue staining her cheeks. Eve had caught her so off guard that her normal confidence had been shaken.

“Do it right there.” Eve demanded.

“God you’re hot.” Villanelle mumbled, nodding quickly and shifting on the stool.

Eve said nothing, leaning back to observe, hands braced against the bed. She remained silent as Villanelle chewed her lip briefly with what could almost be nervousness; but Eve didn’t believe it. She was an excellent actress, and she was playing it up. She wanted Eve to watch her; Eve could tell by the way she slowly dragged the skintight trousers and underwear down over her ass with her thumbs, revealing pale skin and beautifully toned thigh muscles. She wanted Eve to pay attention to the body she worked so hard to maintain, and Eve was taken by the sight. She left them around her ankles, and revealed herself, legs spreading to show how wet she already was. Was it the idea of masturbating in front of Eve that had done it, or the situation as a whole? Was it because of Eve?

“I do it a lot.” Villanelle mumbled as she slid a hand along her thigh, sighing as she pulled her nails across it.

“You’re insatiable.” Eve told her.

“It’s your fault. I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I think about your body… your hair… your face…” Villanelle’s whisper turned into a gentle moan as her fingers landed on her clit, wasting no time manipulating herself. Her eyes shut tight, basking in the feel of Eve’s on her.

“God.” Part of her wanted to look away, to run from the absurd situation, but she couldn’t move. She was burning up inside, painfully aroused - but was it at the sight of her, or because of some cosmic connection?

“I want to be with you, Eve - I - I want you to be mine-” Villanelle gasped, plunging fingers into herself with her other hand. She wasn’t gentle with herself - just effective. She knew exactly what she liked and how to get it quickly, and the noises she made? God, the _noises -_

Eve gasped, fingers bunching up the bedsheets as a climax struck. At the exact same time as Villanelle whimpered her name, head falling back as her own orgasm hit.

“I - it isn’t usually that quick, I just - Eve?” Villanelle gasped, opening her eyes to see Eve shuddering as she came down.

“It had to be you, didn’t it?” She mumbled, and then laughed as she fell back to the bed, closing her eyes.

“Eve…”

“God, I’m tired.” Eve whispered.

“Eve, are you okay?” Villanelle asked, moving to the bed on shaky legs, dropping down beside her.

“My soulmate killed my best friend. And I came here to stab her for it.” Eve laughed, the absurdity of the situation hitting her like a brick to the skull.

“Stab - soulmate? What?” Villanelle’s pitch rose a little.

Eve pulled the knife from her waistband and threw it blindly towards the wardrobe. She pushed the gun off the bed.

“I’ll explain it later… for right now, can you do something for me?” Eve opened her eyes, looking to her.

“… Uh, sure?” Villanelle’s confusion knew no bounds.

“Just hold me. I want to know if it’s really the way they show it in the movies.” Eve told her.

Wordlessly, Villanelle pulled her into her arms. The universe was a strange place, and until that point, Eve had been content to merely exist as a meaningless stitch on time’s grand tapestry, placed there to highlight some other person’s light. But as she laid her head against Villanelle’s chest, arm slinking around her waist to cling to her, she knew that there was so much more to her. Someday she would get revenge for Bill - someday she would hurt Villanelle the way she had hurt Eve. But for that moment, she _basked_ in the alien delight of being held by her soulmate, and knew what it was to feel whole.


End file.
